


All the Saints of Pern

by JoAsakura



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey, Saints Row
Genre: Character Death, I Don't Even Know, M/M, why
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 01:03:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6449272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoAsakura/pseuds/JoAsakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saints Row vs. Dragonriders in a mashup I'm writing because w4rgoddess.</p><p>Blame her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wargoddess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wargoddess/gifts), [sorrowfulcheese](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrowfulcheese/gifts).



> Starting to post this to prove I am not plunking out on the "write a DRoP AU for the media of your choice" challenge back that wargoddess threw at me.

He reckoned it had been magnificent once - Stilwater Weyr looming above the cove that had given it it’s name. 

Once, dragons of every hue had filled the air above it, their riders of such legendary status that the harpers’ tales referred to them as The Saints. But the zin had not fallen in four hundred turns, and during that long time, the Weyr had fallen to silent ruin.

The dragons had dwindled, slowly, almost imperceptibly. Until one day, there had not been a single one in the sky.

The holds that once supported it, from Sommerset Hold to Sunsinger, down to Ezpata Hold and even the Sexcraft Hall at Rebadeux, all had been forced to look to Steelport Weyr after that. And with no zin, and Stilwater gone, the riders and dragons of Steelport became powerful… and cruel.

One other Weyr remained, far to the north and nestled in the Magarac mountains - but no one had seen a dragon from Stag Weyr in at least 50 turns. If any still lived in that frozen Weyr, they were not coming to stand against Weyrleader L’ren’s campaign of unrelenting oppression against the smallholders and craftspeople of Pern.

In the turns, the holdless- renegades, outlaws and criminals, had taken up residence in what tunnels they could access at Stilwater, eking out an existence outside the thumb of L’ren, and his collection of dragon-riding thugs.

They would strike the caravans by night, raiding the tithes to Steelport and living off the booty. The harpers painted them as the worst criminals for fear of their own uncharred heads, but to some, the bandits were Saints of a new era.

“Keep the fires low today.” Adam said, squinting at the bright blue sky. “It’s too clear out, and the last thing we need is a patrol swinging by to investigate smoke from a dead Weyr.”

Shaundi gave the numbweed an experimental prod with her finger and grimaced. “We’re low on everything and the cold’s going to be setting in, Boss.” She tapped a glass pipe. “I’m glad i got off the loa dust before our stores ran out. I’d hate to detox in the middle of winter.”

“My girl’s right. And traffic’s been real thin lately. I think we’re gonna have to send some people in, try and figure out if they’re changing the routes to Steelport.” Pierce added. The former harper tugged his hat down against the glare. “Either that, or we gotta move on.”

“This is our shard-be-damned home, Pierce.” Adam rubbed his face. “Tell the rest of crafters we need a reliable way to get up into the upper levels. We’ve been here for turns, and we’ve only explored a portion of this place. There has t’be more we can use here, than just what scraps we’ve found in the lower caverns.”

“BOSS!” Up the rocky slope, Carlos came running from the lookout, skinny arms pumping. “There’s a whole train headed up the main road to Steelport. Food and weapons and at least one cart from the pharmacraft hall.”

Adam and his lieutenants exchanged a long glance. “They changed up their schedule to throw us off.” He muttered, grabbing his wherhide jacket. It was dyed a deep purple, the old symbol of Stilwater Weyr stitched onto the back. He knew, rationally, that it was a dangerous affectation, but wearing it gave him a sense of pride, of relief, that he had not known in his youth, living off refuse in the bowels of Harrowgate Hold.

“Let’s go show them what it means to cross Saints turf at any time.” He added, wrapping the cloth about his face.


	2. TWO

Adam would never forgive himself for not realising it was a trap.

The Steelport dragons were on them in a flash, the sky darkening as an entire wing suddenly appeared from between. The violence was indiscriminate as fire belched from the great beasts, and the herdbeasts hauling the goods panicked, trampling their handlers and the bandits alike.

Adam danced between the claws of a great brown dragon, narrowly missing blade of one of the caravan guards as he grabbed Carlos, dragging him to momentary safety. The youth’s dark eyes were wide with terror. None of them had ever been this close to a dragon before, let alone an entire squadron dedicated to killing them. “You have to run. Get back to the Weyr and warn the others. Take flight and hide.” He said quickly, shielding the young man as the ground nearby exploded into flame. He thought he heard Shaundi sounding the retreat. “I can’t lose you.”

“I’m not leaving you.” Carlos dug his fingers into the heavy sleeve of Adam’s jacket. “I can..” He fell silent and Adam only had a moment to follow his gaze to the gigantic bronze that suddenly blotted out the sun above them. “Oh, shards.”

One clawed hand grabbed Adam and flung him against the rocks as the world lit up with brilliant orange flame. His head rang and his senses were filled with screams and the smell of burning flesh. “No no no..” He chanted, vision doubled and ears ringing from the impact. The caravan had scattered and the riders had dismounted, finishing off bandits and merchants alike with their antiquated flamethrowers.

He couldn’t see Shaundi or Pierce or the others, but he could see Carlos, unmoving through the smoke, and Adam dragged himself forward, trying to shake off the impact. “Carlos.”

“No, no no. I don’t think so.” A pair of heavy boots blocked his way, and a massive man, face hidden behind a green and black rider’s mask, dragged him to his feet. “You’re the boss of this little operation, aren’t you?” The rider didn’t wait for an answer, cracking Adam in the face with a solid backhand.

He was joined by a smaller, older man. Iron-grey hair perfectly coiffed even as he removed his riding helmet. “Do you know who I am, little man?”

“L’ren of Steelport.” Adam rasped, mouth filled with blood as he struggling to reach the ground with his toes. The first rider hoisted him higher by the throat and tightened his grip.

“You have quite a well-organised little team, boy.” L’ren drawled, tapping out a smoke stick and lighting it off a nearby piece of burning vegetation. “I hate to waste such a useful skillset, and you are exceptionally pretty. Your eyes. Like a green dragon’s hide, all shimmering bright. Beautiful.” He added, studying Adam’s bruised face. “You know what green dragons and their riders are good for, don’t you boy? Cleanup flights and entertainment. Perhaps you and I could..”

“Save you the trouble. Go bend a tail, you shaffing hunk’a firestone.” Adam spat a bloody gobbet, clawing at the big rider’s hands. He grinned as wide as he could, let them focus on him so that maybe some of the others could escape. “Or is the big bad weyrleader all smoke an’ no fire?”

“K’bane.” L’ren glanced up at the big man before reaching up to pat Adam on the cheek. “Make sure he dies slowly. I’ve got plans for his...surviving friends.”

“Of course… boss.” K’bane rumbled. From behind his mask, Adam could see the man’s eyes crinkle in a nasty, nasty smile. “It will be my pleasure.”

The leader of the bandits braced himself on K’Bane’s arm and kicked up, heavy boot catching the rider on the chin. With a shout, he dropped Adam, briefly staggering back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Carlos move, alive though badly burnt.

K’bane laughed as he pulled up his mask enough to spit out a tooth. “I’m going to enjoy gutting you like a fish, bandit filth.”

L’ren paused by where Carlos struggled and saluted Adam as the two men circled, plunging his knife into the boy’s throat. Somewhere out of his field of vision, he heard Shaundi scream. There were the sounds of struggles as the dragons began to take flight, winking back out into between.

“I WILL SHAFFING KILL YOU, YOU HUNK OF ROT MEAT!” Adam’s voice broke and he launched himself at K’bane with a roar. And then stopped, looking down at the knife held firm in his side. It was hot and cold and he blinked stupidly at it.

“You’ll probably bleed out before the scavengers come to pick out your eyes.” K’bane whispered, grinning gaptoothed and bloody mouthed as he lowered Adam to the dirt in a parody of tenderness. “L’ren was right. Such pretty eyes. Maybe I should take them with me before we leave. Don’t waste ‘em in a carrion-eater’s gut.”

“K’bane, come. Let him think about what he’s done and look upon his handiwork.” L’ren shouted from atop his bronze’s lowered neck. [He’s meat.] Came another voice, deep and curious, itching at the back of his brain as the dragon took flight. [Pity.]

The rider left Adam there with a tsk, blood cooling quickly in the chilly, autumn air, as it pooled down the side of his trousers. “Come back here and fight me, you piece of shite.” Adam croaked, trying to drag himself to where Carlos laid in the dust. “Come back and..”


	3. THREE

“FIGHT ME!” Adam tried to sit up and every part of his body complained, from his arms bound to the bed to his side, bound and stitched and plastered in numbweed. He was naked and hurting in a dim little room, candles flickering in the gloom.

Panting, he lay back, testing his bonds and trying to bring his vision into focus. (Carlos was dead. Shaundi, Pierce- he didn’t know if they were dead or if L’ren had taken them. And the last thing he remembered he was bleeding out in the dirt, the world closing in cold and grey and…) He choked off the thought as quick as he could.

“Huh. Tigrith was right, you’re awake.” A voice from the doorway came dryly. “It was touch and go there for a while.” The man was big, face shrouded in a filthy green and purple hooded jacket. In his scarred hands was a shallow bowl of sweetened klah, and Adam’s stomach did a painful lurch.

“You have me at a disadvantage.” Adam licked his lips, suddenly aware of how dry they were.

“You’ve been unconscious for days. I was mostly sure you were going to die, but she said you were tougher than I was giving you credit for.” The man said, sitting down. With one big hand, surprisingly gentle, he cradled Adam’s head. In the other, he balanced the bowl. “Take a sip, you need some nourishment, and I don’t think you’re up to stew yet.”

“I could manage this myself.” Adam rasped, eyes fluttering shut involuntarily at the warmth of the klah hitting his injured throat. “If I wasn’t tied up.” He tried to sound sarcastic, but exhaustion and pain gave it a reedy edge that made his own skin crawl.

“You tried clawing my face off a few days ago, ranting and screaming in the depths of a fever.” The man muttered, taking the bowl away. “I tied you down for both our safeties, you little genkicat.” He ran a thumb, warm from the bowl, against Adam’s cheek. “Genkicat. Heh.”

“On the first shell, I promise, I won’t try and claw your face off.” Adam said. “I mean, it’s not that I have issue with being tied up, but there’s usually a bedmate or two involved in the process.” He waggled his heavy eyebrows and the man grunted.

[On second thought, perhaps you shouldn’t have saved him. His mind is a filthy place to touch. Sad and dirty all at once. I don’t understand it.] A low growl rippled through Adam’s brain and he looked around wildly.

“You’re a piece of work.” The man said before he cautiously untied one wrist, fingers lingering on the hammering pulse beneath tawny skin. “Tigrith thinks you’re a little gross, but I think you’re afraid and bluffing.”

“Who the shards is Tigrith?” Adam asked brusquely, undoing his other arm as his benefactor stepped away. “And who the shards are you?” He rubbed his wrists and sat up gingerly.

“Take it easy. You cracked your head, you were almost choked to death and you nearly bled out. I found you among the dead and saved you. You should be nicer, cat.” The man folded his arms. “You were out for a week with fever, to boot.”

[Do you want me to leave him between, A’gel?] Came the voice again and Adam’s eyes widened.

“WHO THE SHELLS IS TALKING?” Adam shouted, throat aching. The hooded man startled, and pulled back the heavy cloth. He might have been handsome once, heavy features busted up one too many times. But his eyes were wary, dark gold in his brown skin, and Adam felt a traitorous twitch between his legs. “Hello there.”

“You can hear her.” It was less a question. “You can hear her?”

[He can hear me?]

In the narrow slot of a window, a great green head suddenly appeared and Adam screamed.


	4. FOUR

“You passed out.” A’gel said in a low voice as Adam blinked awake again. One scarred hand was gently petting Adam’s hair, letting the purple-black strands move through his fingers like dark water. “You don’t need to be afraid of Tigrith. She’s not going to hurt you.”

“You’re one of them.” Adam lay very still as A’gel continued to pet his hair. “You’re one of L’ren’s riders.” Anger twisted in a cold knot in his aching guts.

“Not any more.” A’gel’s heavy hands moved down Adam’s chest to the bandage. “I challenged K’bane and I lost in combat. They drove me out, but not before they blinded her on one side.” He tapped his own eye, and Adam saw that it had a milky cast to it in some sort of sympathetic reaction. “Took my mask and said if they ever saw me again, I was dead.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but your dragon’s green. K’bane.. He flew a brown, right? I thought..” Adam scowled, making a vague hand gesture to indicate dragonish things he only had the barest understanding of.

“His Prioth flew Tigrith the last time she rose and we were weyrmates of a sort, so I thought he would listen to me. Understand that L’ren is driving us all to ruin. But he didn’t and.. He wasn’t the man I thought he was.” THe rider sighed sadly. “I would pit her against any dragon, she’s brave and fast and fierce. And I still thought I could beat some sense into him and he could rein in L’ren. That is NOT what happened.” A’gel said slowly. “Prioth clawed her up without a second thought.”

[I don’t like that one anymore. Or his rider.] Tigrith said primly. [I’m not sure if I like you yet, either. But you are strong. And strange.]

“Your… weyrmate, he and L’ren killed my… my friend. Killed or took others I care about.” Adam said, still unmoving as A’gel examined his wound with surprising gentleness. “How do I get to him? If you saved my life just to let me live knowing I failed my friends, then you didn’t do me any kindness.”

“You really are a piece of work.” A’gel chuckled. “But unless you have a dragon, you’re not going to get close enough to him to do anything. “

“Ok then.” Adam closed a hand over A’gel’s. “Where can I get a dragon? I have a hunk of shit and firestone I have to kill.”

A’gel blinked, then laughed. When Adam didn’t join in, he sobered quickly. “You’re serious.”

“No, you’re right. I’d need more than one dragon. I’d need a whole bunch of dragons. I need to kill a lot of people.” Adam propped himself up gingerly. “I need a bunch of dragons.”

“You can’t have a bunch of dragons. You’re not getting into Steelport to impress any, even if Kikoth had a clutch on the way. She’s not due to rise for a while, and honestly, he last one with L’ren’s Zimoth was only a few eggs.”

“What about those fuckers to the north? That other group of dragon-riding shardholes? Can’t I get one there?” Adam asked.

“You mean at Stag Weyr? No one’s heard from them in years, and L’ren forbid any of us from ever going up there to find out.”

“Well, then, it’s simple. You and big green out there just pop me up north, I’ll borrow a few dragons and I will end that gaping pile of shite and get my friends back.” Adam said pleasantly. “Simple.”

“You’re deranged.” A’gel blinked.

“I’m motivated.” Adam corrected.

“All right.” The greenrider sat back with a dry smirk. “You convince Tigrith that we should help you - you convince her to let you ride her as a passenger - and we'll help you.”

“Isn’t that a bit unfair?” Adam pushed himself out of bed and the room lurched to the left as he fought to regain his balance. A’gel caught him, and the bandit found himself caught in the rider’s powerful embrace. “Shards.” He chuckled nervously. “Your muscles have muscles.”

“It’s hard work, keeping yourself upright on a maneuvering dragon.” The rider said, rough fingers splayed against Adam’s back. “And life isn’t fair, you should know that, I think.”

They stood like that, pressed close and silent, for several long moments and Adam wondered if the other man could hear his heart hammering. Then he closed his eyes. The smell of charred skin, Shaundi’s scream as L’ren plunged the blade in and...

“I have a dragon to convince.” Adam pushed away from the rider firmly.

“You can barely walk.” A’gel said, but didn’t try to hold him any longer. “You almost bled to death.”

“I’m hoping I can play the sympathy card, then, aren’t I?” The bandit said with a wan smile.


	5. FIVE

A’gel stirred the pot of stew as Tigrith knocked Adam across the little courtyard for the fourth time. He knew the green was pulling her punches, but he was still amazed at the bandit’s ludicrous resilience.

The cothold had been abandoned when he found it, a stone shanty with a half-ruined herdbeast barn just barely big enough to provide shelter for a somewhat-on-the-small-side green dragon. Far enough away from Steelport where she could hunt and where he didn't have to worry about…

A’gel shook his head, clearing unpleasant images from his thoughts. Tigrith was actually having fun as the bandit had gone from rough-edged diplomacy to cursing the dragon out. [He’s amusing.] She noted as she smacked him with a wingtip and sent him tumbling across the stones again.

“AMUSING?? LISTEN T’ME YOU BLOODY OVERGROWN FIRE LIZARD.” Adam staggered upright. He was taller than A’gel, but lankier, and the rider’s extra tunic hung oddly on his rangy frame. “I AM NOT YER SHAFFIN’ CHEW TOY.” He pointed somewhere left of where the dragon actually was and took an unsteady step forward.

A’gel felt bad - a little. But he fervently hoped that Tigrith would wear the man down enough where he would sit and let himself heal for a while. He was far too familiar with K’bane’s strength and cruelty, and despite the bandit’s bravado, he could see how badly the man had been hurt.

Adam took another shaky step forward, and rather than batter him again, Tigrith leaned her great green wedge of a head towards him and trumpeted a roar in the man’s face.

A’gel expected him to fall over, to cover his ears, to do anything except punch the dragon right in her snout. She jerked her head back, the motion knocking him over and her glittering eyes whirled in surprise. [HE SMACKED ME IN THE SNOUT!]

“Y’don’t go yellin’ in people’s faces. S’just rude.” Adam muttered from where he lay sprawled in the dirty courtyard. “I can do this all day, big green. Sooner you just take me, sooner i’m out of yer hair. Tail. Whatever.”

[A’gel doesn’t want you to leave.] The dragon huffed, rubbing her snout with one clawed hand. [He would very much like to ma…]

“OK THAT’S ENOUGH.” A’gel interrupted, standing over Adam as the bandit blinked owlishly back up at him. “Tig?”

[Yes, I will carry him. He is not gross at all. He is very silly and I like him. You like him too.] The dragon rolled her eyes. [And i’m hungry. I’m going to find a wherry or two to eat] She added, erupting from the ground in a sudden, powerful flap of her wings.

“Not many people would punch a dragon.” A’gel scooped Adam up. The bandit made a token complaint but settled into the embrace. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I told you, I’m motivated. Also, hungry. I think I can handle some of that stew, now.” Adam leaned his head on A’gel’s shoulder. “I’m going to murder L’ren and K’bane. I’m telling you that now.” He said softly. “You saved my life, so I don’t want to have to fight you too.”

“They humiliated me, tried to kill my dragon and exiled me from the Weyr. Whatever fondness I had for them, it’s in the past.” A’gel set him gently by the fire. “Now let me look at your stitches. I want to make sure you didn’t open yourself up again when you were playing with Tigrith.”

“You’re kind.” Adam said, flushed as he lifted the shirt, fresh lines of blood seeping through the numb weed and bandages. Gooseflesh rose in the wake of the rider’s touch and he bit down on his lip. Days had passed since he had led them into a trap. If the bodies were still there - Carlos and the others…

“I buried them while you were unconscious.” A’gel said, and Adam realised that the dragon must have relayed his dark thoughts to her rider. “The ones I could find. It only seemed right, the way you called for them in the fever.”

“I owe you more than I care to.” Adam closed his hand over A’gel’s, even as the rider gently pushed him down on the stones. “Thank you.”

The first kiss was perfunctory, an invitation to take some recompense from his body, and Adam was surprised by how passionate the response was. The rider braced himself above the bandit, one hand pressed into the flagstones of the courtyard, while the other trailed down the flat planes of his stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of Adam’s battered old wherhide trousers. “I like a partner who knows what they want.” He whispered with thin humour, lifting his hips, just a bit, to meet the touch.

Adam kept his eyes open, looking up at the darkening sky, the dragon’s silhouette edged in the sunset, as A’gel’s lips traced the bruises on his throat. Closing them would only invite images he didn’t want. He let his fingers skate across the close crop of A’gel’s hair as the rider’s thumb teased over the head of his cock.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” The rider murmured against his pulse. “You’ve taken enough abuse as it is.” Adam was disappointed when the hand on his shaft retreated, only to smirk when it returned after a brief, awkward shifting of bodies, joined by the rider’s own in his grasp.

“I’m not made of glass.” Adam made a short gasp against the curve of A’gel’s ear. He dug his nails into the rider’s scalp as the man’s big, rough hand stroked them both. Adam ground against the man’s thigh, guiding his face back up to find the rider’s mouth with his own.

This kiss was different, and Adam could have sworn he’d had the taste of A’gel’s mouth in his before this night. The rider let a bit more of his weight down on Adam and the bandit hooked one long leg around the other’s, pressing up and against.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind he thought he heard… Felt.. Something else. Someone else. The dragon, watching with curious eyes and half-formed approval as the need started burning in his guts. With care, A’gel scooped him up, Adam straddling his lap as he stroked the both harder. Every broken little sound creeping out of Adam’s throat drew a wry grin, broadening as the bandit clawed at his heavy tunic and ground his hips harder toward’s A’gel’s hand.

When Adam came, wet and messy between them, he thought he heard the dragon trumpet in glee. It was both oddly satisfying and utterly embarrassing, and he buried his face against A’gel’s shoulder to hide the mix, riding out the last shudders of pleasure.

“So.” Adam coughed delicately, the smell of dragonhide, sex and herdbeast stew all competing in his nose. “When do we leave for Stag?”

“Motivated.” A’gel rumbled.

“Without a doubt.”


	6. SIX

He had been unconscious for the first trip between. This time, though, the rider had fussed, warning him of the intensely cold nothing they would blink through. Adam didn’t appreciate the situation until strapped to Tigrith’s back, A’gel’s arms wrapped tightly around him, the rider whispered “hold your breath.”

And then, they vanished.

The cold and the dark was beyond anything he had ever experienced, and before he could fully process how gut-numbingly terrifying it was, they had reappeared high above the Magarac range, the sky above filled with countless glittering stars. Tigrith circled, sensing Adam’s wonder as he looked up, and then down at the moon-silvered mountains beneath them. “It’s beautiful.” He said in a small voice, snuggling back against A’gel against a much more mundane chill.

“I love flying.” The rider admitted, close in Adam’s ear so as to not have to shout over the wind and Tigrith shot back an affirmation of the same. “Everything seems so simple up here.”

“I can see why.” Adam nodded. “Where’s this shitty Weyr, then?”

“Further north. A dragon can only go between to someplace they or their rider has a strong mental image of.” A’gel shrugged as the green banked, catching a warmer current of air. “This is as far north as I’ve ever gone on patrol. It’s the southern end of Stag’s patrol zone.”

“Doesn’t it have any holds that tithe?” Adam was perplexed, trying to catch any flicker of light below.

“Daedelus and Thermopylae.” A’gel said after a moment. “Birk Hall too, if I remember. But even the holders are reclusive up here. If there was every any trade, I wasn’t aware or part of it.” He shrugged.

“There - that big bowl out of the mountains. Is that it?” Adam squinted against the dark, the moonlight edging it in faint silver.

“It looks like a Weyr.” The rider nodded. “Here goes nothing.” He urged Tigrith to drop and she began calling out her name in greeting to whatever dragons might lie below. At first there was nothing, and her concern was palpable.

But then a single response, faintly brushed the edges of Adam’s consciousness and he felt the green’s descent stutter in shared surprise.

[Welcome welcome back Tigrith of Saints. Did you forget me, did you forget Templeth?]

[I do not know Templeth] She said, circling the Weyr in her descent. [But he knows me. How? How?]

“I suspect we’re about to find out.” Adam patted her neck with cold-numbed fingers as she found a ledge to land upon. Glowlight spilled from the cavern, blocked as the elderly bronze came to meet them. “You must be Templeth.” Adam said, looking up at the massive creature.

It was hard to tell in the faint light, but the bronze’s hide seemed dull, his wings scarred and pitted. His eyes still shone, though, and he dropped his head to nuzzle the green, who danced nervously away.

“I apologise for Templeth.” Came a more human voice, and A’gel and Adam tensed as a man stepped out from the weyr. “He’s so happy to see you again, Adam.” He was big and broad, well-muscled for someone clearly of many turns. Adam didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone so wrinkled or grey. But then life in Harrowgate, or even as a bandit, wasn’t exactly conducive to old age.

“You’ve got me confused with someone else, then, mate.” Adam shifted as nervously as the green. “This is the first time I’ve been here and…”

“Where is everyone?” A’gel blurted out, looking out into the abandoned Weyr. Below them, the entire fortress was dark, dead, silent.

“I was only a weyrlying when you told me to wait for you.” The old man embraced him and Adam froze, mind swimming with a bizarre Deja vu. “You were so dashing, and I couldn't understand why Templeth was so sad when the bronze you were with went between with the old man who brought you to us.” He let go, studying Adam with bright eyes. “I understand now.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Who *are* you?” Adam asked the old man, feeling his heart hammer just a little harder.

“My name is C’rus. And my last act as the last dragonrider of Stag will be to bring you back to where you belong.” The old man said proudly. “Back to Gath. Back to the Saints of Stilwater.”


End file.
